I am thinking it’s a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they perfectly align. And I have to speculate that God himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay.
Is that what love is? A Donnie Darko style worm flowing from my chest toward a reciprocal sized portal in another? Is that why after a break-up the clichéd, “I’ll always carry a piece of you in my heart” is universally understood, even by the cynic. One Valentine’s Day a lover sent me an anonymous story chronicling the valor of the heart’s trials and tribulations:
One day a young man was stood in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered to admired his heart, for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine."
The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.
The people stared. “How can he say that his heart is more beautiful?”
The young man looked at the state of the old man's heart and laughed. “You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges . . . giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting.
“So now do you see what true beauty is?"
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his scarred heart and placed it in the wound of the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.
How sad it must be to go through life with a whole heart.
As a romantic, I have been know to wax poetically key lines from Baz Lurhman’s Romeo & Juliet and Moulin Rouge but my idea of love has evolved beyond Cameron Crowe’s “You complete me.” I prefer the image of two neighboring trees, strong and rooted in and of themselves, creating a intricate canopy of multi-colored leaves and curvaceous limbs overhead. And in between, where the sky breaks through, the eternal dance of offering and receiving, the microcosm and the macrocosm and all the shades of blue along the way.
The River, a consistent and generous lover, always gives back. I would argue the same is true of all relationships of any label if we are willing to see beyond the duality of positive and negative experience and welcome what is. It is a matter of trust. Faith that we are right where we need to be and life, like scars and wrinkles, give us character.
In Greek philosophy and science water is commonly associated with emotion and intuition. In Wiccan tradition water represents wisdom, the soul and femininity. And then there is the Moon. Its no small wonder the retreat so powerfully touched my soul, honed my intuition and resulted in these ruminations on love.
In the dream realm rivers can symbolize a journey; either physical, emotional or spiritual. On the last day of our distinct, but not separate, journey down the Salmon River we eddied out at the confluence of the Snake & Salmon Rivers. Twenty plus flotilla miles later the retreat would come to an end but for the time being we were together moved to offer and give back to the River. Honoring the interconnectedness of all things we harmonized our voices and let the wind and the current take its vibration out into the universe. Our bodies and our hearts close to follow we fell back into the river, cool and cleansing, and like the swan in Rilke’s poem, content to be carried.
The laboring through what is still undone, as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way, is like the awkward walking of the swan.
And to die - which is the letting go of the ground we stand on and cling to every day, is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down into the water, which receives him gaily and which flows joyfully under and after him,
wave after wave,
while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,
is pleased to carried, each moment more fully grown,
more like a king, further and further on.
I’ll keep floating on with a therapist of the both the physical and emotional leaning in tow to help me ground and integrate my experience and put it into these words.
Photos of this Retreat will be posted to LauraNidra Yoga shortly....
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